


The Not So Fake Date

by damibirb



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, this is really just an excuse to write tropes and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27460201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damibirb/pseuds/damibirb
Summary: When Damian decides that he wants to come out to the public, he thinks it's best to find a temporary, trustworthy date for the next Wayne charity gala.Of course, his best friend, Jonathan Kent, is the most obvious choice.But what if he slowly realizes that he doesn't want this to be temporary after all?
Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne
Comments: 9
Kudos: 208





	The Not So Fake Date

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! I hope you enjoy this tooth-rotting fluff! I'm really excited to finally be posting fic again!
> 
> Thank you so much to my readers, kudo-givers, and commenters! Your validation fuels me :)

If Damian was solicited even one more time for a date to these pompous functions, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to put a check on his carefully balanced rage.

It certainly wouldn’t make for good PR if Damian were to lose his head. But it was just getting ridiculous. The older he got, the more he was talked about. He was the next most eligible bachelor in the line of Wayne. The messages were never-ending, constant solicitations and calls for who was going to be on his arm at the next function.

To make matters worse, they were almost all women. Not that Damian faulted the upper-class girls of Gotham for trying to make an advantageous monetary and societal match by being seen with him. It was just that… he had recently discovered that he had a distinct lack of interest for that particular gender in a romantic and sexual sense.

And wasn’t that just a whole issue in itself? As much as he hated the current media attention, there was no doubt that he’d get even more of it if he ever came out. Even so, he felt ready to do it. He wasn’t afraid of anyone’s opinions besides the ones of his family and he was certain none of them here in Gotham cared.

After all, almost all the Wayne children had shown signs of being queer in some fashion, even if it was for brief, exploratory circumstances. He already knows that his father cares little about matters of bloodline.

His mother’s side of the family on the other hand…well, that was a different matter. And Damian would cross that bridge when he came to it.

For now, he had the daunting task of figuring out who to bring with him to the Martha Wayne Foundation this year. The biggest event of the year for their family without a doubt. The perfect opportunity for Damian to come out and stop hiding this pressing secret that he felt was consuming him. It would have the added benefit of ending these incessant speculations and requests.

The matter then came to who he would take. Of the few elite boys that he knew had a reputation for bringing another man on their arm here and there, none of them interested Damian in any way. In his very honest opinion, they were all overly lascivious on top of being horrible, brown-nosing opportunists.

No, none of the usual Gotham elite would do. This was an important moment for him. An occasion that called for trust.

Knock knock

Damian only just flinched, a little twitch to his shoulder, but otherwise masked how startled and caught off guard he’d just been. Perhaps his mother had one point; he was getting sloppy under his father’s tutelage.

He glanced up to the source of the sound, his largest bedroom window, and saw no other than Jonathan Kent floating and grinning like an idiot. The moron waved at him almost sheepishly and Damian scoffed, stood from his bed, and crossed the room to swing the door to his private balcony open.

“Kent. What could you possibly…”

“Hey, Dames! I know it’s kinda late, but I figured you’d be up. Y’know. With your usual sleeping schedule. I have this assignment and it’s kinda due tomorrow and I thought maybe you’d be able to help me with it?” Jon rambled as he let himself in, dumped his books on the floor, and made himself at home on Damian’s Persian rug.

Damian gave another scoff in indignation. It had been years since their friendship started, but it still sometimes blew his mind that Jon dared to be so comfortable. Then again, he couldn’t really think of anyone he was closer with. Jon was his best friend, even though he barely admitted it aloud. In the end, after all of Damian’s bluster, Jon was one of his most trusted… allies…

It clicked.

“Go with me to the foundation charity tomorrow night. As my plus one.”

The words spilled from his lips before he could even think of them and he felt his cheeks go hot a moment later as Jon stilled and turned a very confused, wide-eyed gaze his way.

“Wha-?” Jon asked, rather stupidly, as far as Damian was concerned.

Damian shifted, straightened the lines of his shoulders, and cleared his throat. “I mean… I’m asking you this as a favor. The incessant, constant solicitations are wearing on me. I don’t really want to spend an evening with any of them. I’d rather go with… someone whose presence I can handle.”

Jon’s surprised look slowly turned into something playful. He grinned impossibly wide, light laughter spilling out when he couldn’t contain it anymore. “Wow! I’m a presence you can handle? I’m so flattered, Damian!”

This teasing, of course, only made Damian sigh and roll his eyes rather dramatically. “Don’t make me change my mind on that opinion,” he quickly answered. His tone was slightly terse, however, there was a slight little upturn to one corner of his mouth that betrayed him.

Jon gave him a knowing, fond look and for some reason it made Damian feel oddly warm.

Damian broke their connected gaze and took in a sharp breath, walking over to where Jon had made himself at home and sat down smoothly with his legs crossed in front of him. “Besides, this… is a delicate matter. I plan to come out to the public. As gay. I want someone I can trust that will support me in this.” Damian looked up to Jon and didn’t really see any surprise there. They’d both talked about their burgeoning sexualities before. Damian hadn’t really ever admitted to not being attracted to women in any capacity before, but he guessed it didn’t matter.

“So… this is a date?” Jon asked carefully, looking a little reserved and something else that Damian couldn’t pinpoint. Or, something that Damian wasn’t willing to look into that deeply.

“No. Of course not. It’s merely for appearances. Currently, there aren’t any men that I would trust with this delicate matter so I figured my… best friend would do.” It was still so hard to allow himself to have emotional attachments. The words sounded arbitrary and infantile coming from his mouth. Best friend. But it was the best term to describe their relationship, even Damian had to admit.

“Oh,” Jon answered, and his smile was still there but it was softer than it had been. Smaller. Still, the boy shrugged and seemed chipper as he continued to speak. “Sure, Dames. Although I can’t promise I’ll know what to do at a fancy place like that.”

Damian licked over his lips and put his hands on his own knees. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be doing the majority of speaking. We’ll come up with a brief introduction for your sake but you’re mostly going as my… what do the gossip rags call it? Ah, yes. My ‘arm candy’.”

Jon snorted a laugh and tried to hide it in the open pages of his textbook. He peeked over the top edge of the book, blue eyes bright with amusement. “Rao, Damian. Don’t ever say that again, first off. Secondly, I’m not sure I qualify as arm candy.”

Damian relaxed his posture slightly, feeling that usual comfort that was always so natural around Jon. He slipped his hands to rest behind him on the carpet and shifted some of his weight on his arms. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re very handsome. And gregarious. Those simpering fools will adore you. And if they don’t, they might meet my sword.”

Jon blinked at him, a slight pink to the high points of his cheeks. Damian couldn’t figure out for the life of him what that was about.

He decided not to spend too much time thinking on that anyway. He moved across the rug to peer at the books that Jon apparently needed for this assignment, jade eyes already quickly scanning the words.

“Now, what assistance do you require for this assignment that is no doubt incredibly elementary?”

=====================================================================

The night of the foundation came all too quickly. Damian had Jon fitted for a designer suit, which the humble farm boy had balked at the price tag for. They’d also prepared a polite, canned explanation to any media or socialites that asked.

Of course, Jon was the son of Lois Lane and Clark Kent, close friends to his father. They’ve known each other since childhood, went to school together briefly, and maintained their friendship through the years. This was all true, of course, though they obviously would omit the details of their caped lives.

However, it occurred to Damian at some point that this was more than just dragging his best friend along to a charity function on his arm. They would, for all intents and purposes, seem like they were dating. A new, budding love stemmed from a childhood friendship. The media would no doubt run with this perceived story. And he tried to calm himself down by reiterating that this was part of the plan. He wouldn’t receive half as many annoying requests and Jon was aware of the impending attention, even joking that it would no doubt raise the number of his Twitter followers.

“You look like you’re gonna puke,” Jon’s voice piped up, effectively snapping Damian out of his snowballing thoughts. He’d fixed his tie in front of his mirror a thousand times and it was perfect of course, but that didn’t stop his itching fingers from adjusting it again.

“Do I?” Damian tried to answer calmly, but his voice came out pinched and slightly panicked.

That made Jon sigh and grab onto his friend’s shoulders, turning him so they faced each other. “It’s gonna go great, Dames. You’ll have this all over by the end of the night and you’ll feel so much better. And if anyone has anything bad to say about you, then they don’t matter anyway.”

As usual, Jon’s presence eased that darkness that Damian felt crawling up. Suddenly, a lot of the figurative stormy clouds cleared, replaced by that stubbornly sunny perspective on life.

He allowed himself a smile, brief, just a slight curl of his lips and a glinting light in his eyes. He tutted, turned away to face the mirror again, putting on airs. Though, he saw Jon’s knowing smile in the reflection.

“You don’t have to worry over me like a mother hen, Jonathan. I can very well handle a media presence. I’ve faced far worse.” Though, if he was honest, he’d rather face a hundred ninja right now than face those blinking cameras.

Jon’s hum was all the answer he got as the tall boy fixes his own borrowed tie. Damian had taken one look at the suit Jon had planned to bring and had his tailor make something for him instead. Jon had insisted that he had the tie covered, at least, but then he’d walked into the manor with a monstrosity around his neck and Damian had fretted over his own collection until he found a better choice.

Damian had deftly ignored Jon’s amused laughing as he’d fretted over colors and patterns, mumbling, “I definitely didn’t choose you for this task for your fashion sense, Jonathan Kent. Abysmal, truly…”

Damian forced himself to focus on the present when Alfred knocked politely at his door, opening it just a hair to inform them that the limousine was out front, with the rest of the night’s attendees in waiting.

His father, obviously, along with Timothy, Cassandra, Stephanie, Duke, and Grayson. They always made an effort to be around for this one, as it meant a great deal to their family, honoring their grandmother that they never knew.

Damian knew that Jason would attend if he could, although he was still very much dead in the eyes of the public. His father had obviously learned that lesson, and though many of them had had their scrapes with death, none of the rest of them had ever been public knowledge. In this life of theirs, death had a funny way of not being so permanent. Damian was intimately familiar with that.

Jon walked with him down the manor hallways and it felt like time stood still on the journey there. The entire drive, Jon’s hand rested comfortably on Damian’s knee and the family gave them supportive looks, some a little too knowing and mischievous for Damian’s liking.

Honestly, he had clarified to them that this wasn’t what the media would perceive. He didn’t expect the curious teasing to ease, regardless. Grayson had even pressed Damian to ask Jon to this function legitimately, with no fake pretenses, but Damian had balked at the notion.

All too soon, they were pulling up at the front entrance to the center, where the gala was to be held. The door opened and the flashes from outside started immediately. His family funneled out ahead of them, smiling with their media personas firmly in place.

Soon, it was only him and Jon in the limo, and Damian’s lungs felt small as he tried to take a breath.

Jon was looking at him, supportive, fiercely so. “You’ve got this,” he told him quietly. “Ready?”

Damian looked back into those true blue eyes and nodded.

He took Jon’s hand and stepped out onto the curb, helping his tall date out of the slick, black vehicle. There was an immediate rush of his name, calls in the hopes that they’d get a good shot of the youngest heir for their tabloids.

But then there was a noticeable shift when Damian firmly took Jon’s arm in his, walking along the carpet as the valet closed the door behind them. They went forward as all the rest of the couples did, side by side, arm in arm.

The stunned silence didn’t last long.

Flashes from cameras doubled, voices raised to shouts from the media crews. Damian chanced a glance to Jon and saw that he was holding up just fine, a smile on his face and braving the blinding lights.

It shouldn’t be a surprise, with such prestigious members of the media being his parents. If Lois Lane taught her son anything, it was how to meet these kinds of things head on.

They ignored most of the crews. Damian certainly wouldn’t give his direct quotes to any gossip celebrity rag. They did stop for some pictures, to be polite, and Damian had to force himself to drown out the questions that were vaulted at them with no seeming shame.

“Damian, a comment about your sexuality!”

“Damian, who is your date?”

“Mr. Wayne, are you gay? Do you expect this to impact stocks at Wayne Enterprises?”

He felt Jon tense at that one, and Damian had to squeeze his best friend’s arm gently to ease that overprotectiveness. Jon bent down slightly to whisper in Damian’s ear, hiding his lips from the cameras as he did.

“Damn vultures. Are you doing okay, Dames?” Jon’s breath was hot against his ear, and really this position only added fuel to the fire, but Damian allowed himself to smile as if Jon was merely whispering a sweet nothing. Perhaps he was playing it up slightly, but if they wanted a show, Damian was more than content to give them one.

His answer to Jon is a nod and a gentle squeeze to his hand as their arms drop and Damian chose to link their fingers together instead. He felt his face heat up a bit, and when he looked up at Jon, he saw a light dusting of pink on those freckled, pale cheeks too.

Damn, he really should have thought this through.

They got through that first wave just by walking, slowly but surely. Other guests trailed behind them, distracting some of the media crews who knew they probably weren’t going to get the live scoop of Damian Wayne’s speculative sexuality. It took some of the heat off of it by the time that Damian was near the front of the venue, with a gleeful Vicky Vale in wait.

As much as Vale had cost them incredible headaches in the past, Damian had to respect her for her resourcefulness. And she was the most beloved reporter in Gotham. It only made sense for the Waynes to play nice with the influential media.

Vale surprised him by opening up with a casual question, something about who he was wearing and if he’d be attending the swiftly upcoming Gotham fashion week.

Armani. Of course, he would be. He looked forward to seeing this year’s creativity and ingenuity from the participating designers.

The small talk was dropped not too soon after, however. Vicky Vale turned a damn near carnivorous eye to Jon, eyes glimmering, wide smile absolutely genuine and not at all for the sake of the camera pointed right at them. She was, entirely, a reporter getting her scoop of the month, maybe even the year.

“I don’t believe your date is a common guest of these functions, right, Damian? Would you like to introduce yourself, young man?” She flipped the script, didn't ask any bold, offensive questions about their sexualities. But the word date was clearly emphasized, and when they don’t correct her, she might as well have asked.

The woman was damn good at her job, Damian could admit that.

Jon took it all in stride, though. Smiled brightly and looked excited when she posed her question at him directly, a pretty pink to his cheeks as if he was delighted that she spoke to him directly and he hadn’t been expecting that.

He introduced himself smoothly, gave a short but sweet little story of how they met as kids, even slipped in a dorky, yet charming, message to his parents with a little wave.

Damian had to remind himself he wasn’t actually supposed to be proud in the same way a true lover might be.

“Oh, so you’re the son of Pulitzer prize winners Lois Lane and Clark Kent?” Vicky looked a little more respectful now instead of completely out for the hunt.

“He is,” Damian interrupted smoothly because, despite appearances, he knew Jon didn’t want all attention on him for this entire interview. “Like he said, we met through our parents. They’re very good friends, as you probably know. We’ve known each other since childhood.”

And he glanced up at Jon, a warm glint to his green eyes. “There’s no one I would trust more with this appearance.”

Jon smiled brightly at him, incredibly genuine, and for a moment they both forgot the presence of the looming cameras, flashing lights, and microphones shoved in their faces.

Vicky takes that for the invitation that it is. She poses her next question carefully.

“So, this is intended to be a coming out, of sorts?”

Damian steeled himself and nodded simply, gripping at Jon’s hand for the support it offered.

“Yes, Ms. Vale. Although I should hope that it has no consequence one way or another, I decided that I’d like to publicly come out as gay.” And there it was. He felt a little lightheaded, but he didn’t let on, standing as stoically as possible.

Vale took the opportunity to smile broadly at him, very aware of the camera and public scrutiny. “Well, I’d like to offer my congratulations and support to you, Damian. I take it your family already knows?”

That was a slightly touchy subject, but only because of the possible meaning of family. He knows Vale was mostly interested in his father’s reaction. But that wasn’t what filtered through Damian’s mind then. He’d told all of his family at a private Wayne dinner gathering in the manor and had received unanimous, overwhelming support.

Overwhelming mostly on the part of Grayson, who had cried happily and clutched him too tightly while blubbering about how proud he was of him.

No, what he was worried about was his mother and grandfather. He wasn’t a fool enough to hope that they weren’t watching this.

“Many members of my family did know before tonight and were supportive, yes. Those that didn’t… well, they know now, I suppose.” He glances at the camera, a silent appeal, just a hint of expression in his eye. A plea for his mother to understand. To accept him. He had no such hopes for his grandfather, but he didn’t doubt his mother’s love.

Outwardly, to most, he looked strong in his conviction, but he knew the slight expression would be noticed by those that are capable and trained.

He felt Jon squeeze at his hand.

The interview wrapped up shortly after that. Vale graciously sent them along their way with well wishes, and Damian all too quickly took the opportunity to escape the scrutiny. People were still wandering in, so they had a moment to find a small alcove, off the beaten path.

As soon as they’re out of eyesight from the cameras and the other guests, Damian clutched at his chest with a free hand and breathed deep.

“Hey. Hey, Dami, you did great,” Jon told him gently, leading him over to the quiet, plush bench positioned right under an ornate window. A few guests walked by some feet away, with softly clacking designer shoes against polished marble flooring.

Damian only allowed himself a moment to be so open, took another deep breath, and then steeled himself yet again. He nodded, like he actively agreed, even though he wasn’t so sure.

“Yes, I suppose it went alright. Thank you, for being so enigmatic and taking it in stride. It certainly went smoother with your personable nature to lean on.” At one point, a ‘thank you’ from Damian Wayne might have frozen over hell. He liked to think he was a little more gracious in his young adult years.

Jon offered him a little smile; his eyes were bright even though this corner of the venue was slightly dim. How did he always manage to look like he had a galaxy of stars in those cobalt blues?

Damian swiftly and firmly pushed that thought out of his mind.

Then, his free hand was taken into a similar hold, Jon tenderly lacing their fingers with that hold as well. Damian had no choice but to look up from their joined hands, which was a mistake, because he only wound up starting into Jon’s eyes again.

Damn.

Jon’s smile widened into something picturesquely goofy, his soft dark curls tumbling along his forehead and temples as he shakes his head with a laugh that makes Damian’s chest constrict.

Double damn.

“I thought saying hi to mom might ease the tension a little bit,” he joked easily, and Damian was so unfortunately enraptured.

The panic started to well up, then. He couldn’t have actual feelings for his best friend. That wasn’t what this was meant to be. What if Jon had to reject him and they never spoke again? Worse, what if Jon accepted? What if they date and it’s bliss and then Jon finally found out just how rotted Damian was to the core? They’d become exes, burned by each other, and Damian would lose this light in his life forever.

Damian cleared his throat, softly pulling away from that twin grasp on his hands. He did his best to make it seem casual, immediately used his hands to smooth his hair and fix his lapels nervously so Jon wasn’t worried by the retreat.

It seemed to work because Jon relaxed back against the ornate, paisley fabric of the bench they’re sitting on. His eyes flitted to the crowd that was slowly filtering in.

“You okay now? I think we might be expected soon,” Jon piped up conversationally and Damian forced himself to nod.

“Yes, I am feeling much calmer.” Lie. Jon looked over at him suspiciously. Damn Kryptonian hearing listening to his heartbeat.

However, blessedly, Jon didn’t mention it. Probably thought better of calling Damian out on this one, in particular.

“Okay, good. Let’s just take another second or two and then we can go find our table. Maybe some drinks?” Jon grinned brightly, as any newly 21-year-old would. Damian hums and smiles as he felt himself actually ease up and fall back into normalcy.

“Jonathan Kent, you are not allowed to get drunk at the foundation.”

Jon scoffed and waved his hand. “Trust me, I won’t. My tolerance is really high. Or did you forget who my dad was?” He said that part quietly, grinning conspiratorially.

Damian snorted in laughter, his lips barely twitching to betray it. “You are also your mother’s son.”

“Yeah, but I promise, D. I really only get kinda warm and relaxed. The worst I’ve ever gotten was really giggly. And that was during Greek week. I’d been drinking from noon until two. In the morning.”

Damian scoffed. “Congratulations, dunderhead.” He didn’t understand college life, hadn’t elected to go himself, seeing as he’d had multiple doctorate degrees by age eleven. Though, he was very proud of Jon. Academically, anyway.

Jon offered his hand again, still smiling like an idiot, as per usual. Damian only hesitated a beat before he took the offer.

And he was careful to mask his feelings, to make sure that his heartbeat was a normal, calm thump-thump in his chest.

The night was a whirlwind of socialization. Many schmoozers came up to Damian and doted on him like he was a child, offering their congratulations and complimenting their appearance as a supposed couple.

It was honestly exhausting, but Damian maintained his politely reserved persona that he’d cultivated in his recent years. A more grown-up version of himself, calmer. Not incredibly enigmatic as his father, but politely intelligent, though slightly introverted.

Jon’s presence helped greatly, as the young super continued to take the night in stride and smile and answer every simpering question that was doled to him. Stayed politely attentive when Damian got into business conversations with investors and other important moguls.

He was the perfect date. Energetic, sparkling, perfectly social. While also continuing the conversation in an intellectual way, when he could. And all the while, right by Damian’s side, barely moving from their joined hands unless it was to give a respectful handshake.

Damian allowed himself the fantasy of always getting this support. For years and years to come, until the gray starts to grow in on their sideburns.

Such a stupid, silly thought. And a dangerous one, at that.

If he lost Jonathan, he wasn’t sure if he could survive that blow. At the very least, he wouldn’t be the same person.

Panic and hurt settled in his chest as the night went on, like a heavy, weighted stone. He masked it well for a majority of the event, however, when the speeches winded down and they were doing their rounds toward the end of the evening, he could tell that Jon was starting to pick up on it.

The dancing is what really did him in. It shattered that well-smoothed façade that Damian had in place.

Soft, swelling orchestra music filled the room after all the pomp and circumstance was done, the important speeches said, dinner had. People were feeling their champagne and they started to swirl along the cleared dancefloor.

Jon turned to him and grinned, and Damian knew he was screwed.

“No.” Damian’s answer was immediate as he saw the conspiratorial glint in those eyes.

Jon pouted. “Aww, come on, Dami! Just one dance? It’ll be fun!”

A nervous glance over at the dancefloor greeted Damian with many dancing pairs. His father and Selena included. More pairs were standing from their finished desserts to join them.

Damian sighed, resigned. “Fine…”

Before he could even think about what he’d just agreed to, Jon was pulling him by the hand excitedly. They got to their own circle of space and Jon pulled Damian into his orbit. And Damian was like a comet, caught in Jon’s gravitational pull. Crashing down, burning so bright it felt like he was being torn apart.

An easy grin met his gaze and there was a gentle hand on his waist, leading him into a waltz before he could protest.

Damian blushed brightly, but his hand went to Jon’s shoulder on instinct. “And why, exactly, are you leading?” He asked impetuously.

Jon just laughed and leaned down, closing even more distance between them, and Damian was sure he was going to burn up from the inside out.

“I’m taller. I’ve got, what? Four or five inches on you?” He teased.

Damian stamped on Jon’s toe on purpose, even though he knew it didn’t hurt him whatsoever.

“I’m older,” he protested, but there was a smile on his face before he could stop it from happening.

That brought a bright laugh out of Jon’s chest. The young super’s eyelashes brushed against his cheeks as he closed them and laughed harder.

They laughed together, and Damian let himself just immerse in this fantasy for a little while. They kept dancing when the song ended, despite Jon saying earlier that they’d only stay for one.

They swirled around the dancefloor, gently rocked to slower ballads, talking and giggling softly. Reliving old times, their golden Super Sons days. Gossiping about the other people in the room like they were still very much those children.

The spell was broken when the orchestra was done for the night, and people gently started to leave the space. All at once, that happiness breaks like a bubble on hot concrete. The sinking feeling was back and Damian felt like such an idiot because he realized with startling clarity what he’d been feeling in his heart this whole time.

As they made their departing rounds, Jon’s grip got a little tighter. He tried nudging Damian gently when they’d get a brief moment of peace by the leftover hors devours. But then, of course, they’d be interrupted again. Bruce’s heirs were never left alone for long. This room was an Amazonian river, the attendants piranhas, and the Wayne’s, a freshly submerged victim.

It was only when they were finally back in their limo that they got a moment to themselves again. They were waiting for the rest of the family, sitting on the expensive leather of the otherwise empty and silent vehicle.

Damian sighed out harshly and undid his tie, pretending he didn’t notice Jon’s worried glance from his periphery.

“My feet are killing me. Honestly, that’s the last time I let you talk me into dancing for hours.” He tried for the usual banter, but it fell flat. Jon wasn’t fooled.

“Dami… what’s wrong?” It’s so quiet, Damian almost winced.

“What? Nothing. Are you certain there’s nothing wrong with you?” Damian quickly deflected, turning to look at Jon. But all he saw was a quietly thinking expression. Silence.  
Damian faltered for just a moment under that scrutiny. “Really, Jon, it’s nothing…”

“You can’t lie to me, you know. I thought you’d have learned that by now.”

It’s Damian’s turn to be silent and he had to tear his gaze away, can’t even look at him as he’s forced to fix those jade eyes on his own lap instead.

More silence.

Finally, Jon speaks up again. “I think I know what this is about. I could hear everything, you know. Your heartbeat getting faster on that dance floor…”

Damian scoffed. “I was dancing, Jonathan. Of course, my pulse increased. What are you implying?” Of course, they both knew that a little ballroom twirling wasn’t even close to the amount of exercise it would take to raise Damian’s heart rate.

Jon reached out, took one of his hands in his, both of them resting on Damian’s knee.

“I know you’re scared. This is kinda scary. We’ve been friends for so long, it’s a really big risk, right?” Jon spoke like he could see into Damian’s mind. Just plucked those dark thoughts out and laid them out bare for everyone to see.

“Jon… what…”

“Tonight was… tonight was amazing, Damian. I didn’t even mind all the butt-kissing rich people or the media. Because I was with you and you… you’re worth all of that and more. And all I wanted to do back on that dance floor was kiss you.”

Damian’s breath caught in his throat. Actually made an audible little hiccup, he was that shocked.

“It’s a horrible idea. What if we break up?” Damian asked quietly, finally finding the courage. There was no point in hiding now, apparently.

Jon shrugged next to him. “Then we don’t work out, that’s fine. Dames… do you think anything in the world would make me leave you? Even if this doesn’t work out?”

Yes. Finally realizing I’m a monster that you should have given up on long ago, Damian thought privately.

“Get out of your head. Tell me what you’re thinking.” Jon was so painfully patient. Damian felt something wet on his cheek and he flinched as he realized what it was. Furiously, he wiped the offending tear off his cheek.

“I don’t deserve you, Jonathan Kent. I have blood on my hands. Blood so old, it’s never going away. It’s stained on my skin. You… you deserve someone who’s normal—"

Jon huffed a bitter laugh. “Normal? Damian, I’m the son of Superman. I couldn’t have normal even if I wanted to!” He was intense as he reached out and forced Damian’s chin to look up into those painfully blue eyes of his.

“I want you. I’ve only ever wanted you. I think I’ve wanted you longer than even I realized it. Before I could even understand it. And when I say I want you, I want all of you. The good and the bad. The past, the now. Yeah, Dami, you have blood on your hands, and you have scars on your skin, on your heart. But I want all of that too, because it’s you. And… and I’m so damn proud of the guy you’ve become, Dames. So damn proud.”

The tears were falling faster now, uncontrolled. Jon swept them away with gentle thumbs.

“Don’t you get it, Damian? Don’t you get that I love you and I have loved you for a long, long time, and I’m going to love you forever, no matter what, no matter what story from your past you think will change my mind?”

Those words struck deep and when Jon leaned their foreheads together, Damian allowed it. He closed his eyes for a brief moment because it was all so much. He sniffed quietly, and finally, he nodded. Opened his eyes and saw the truth so clearly in those starry eyes.

“I love you, too…” Damian near whispered. It probably would’ve been too quiet for another human to hear, but Jon heard it just perfectly because he’s kissing him.

Soft and tender and Damian knew there was nothing out there like this. Nothing would ever compare.

A car horn nearby them blared loudly and their kiss smacked apart and Damian laughed.

Jon joined him, chuckling warmly into their shared breaths, catching his lips in a couple more soft, brief kisses, the curves of their smiles pressing against one another’s.

“No matter what, Dames. Forever, I promise you.” Jon’s voice was so whisper-quiet, a declaration that Damian knew would never be broken.

“Forever…”


End file.
